Love You All
by houseofcandles
Summary: How do Meredith, Derek, and their kids deal with some very tragic news? It is a roller coaster of a ride, but hang in there. It will be worth it!
1. Chapter 1: Use Somebody

**Chapter 1: Use Somebody**

It was late September; the beginning of fall, and Meredith Grey watched the sun sink lower into the sky from the porch of their Victorian style home. The wind blew gently against her skin, making her feel as if though she were apart of the beautiful landscape in front of her. Derek made it so that the porch overlooked all of Seattle. Looking out at it now, she felt like she was in heaven – a god of sorts – looking down at the world.

She liked to sit here in the evenings. She, Derek and Noah used to sit here together, watching the sunset. It was peaceful. Noah would sit in her lap and Derek would hold her hand. But they hadn't done it in awhile, especially after the twins were born. It seemed as if she had forgotten how to relax, just enjoy life. It was work, soccer practice, school recitals, Halloween. It never ended. And she had forgotten to just live.

But today, she was doing exactly that – just living. She left work early and took the ferry home. She hadn't taken the ferry home in months. She usually took the long route. The boy's school was along that way. But, today, she had asked Izzie to pick up the boys. They would spend the night at her house tonight. So, today, she took the ferry. She loved the ferry. It was where Derek proposed to her. Apparently, he had planned some big thing, with roses, candles, dinner reservations, and musicians. But on their way there, he couldn't wait any longer. They were staring out at the water. It was one of those rare clear nights in Seattle. And he just asked. It was perfect.

She sat on the porch, staring off at the sunset, remembering that day, remembering their love. She loved him – through everything — she loved him. She made a mental note, reminding herself to tell him that more often. She didn't say it enough. She didn't do a lot of things enough.

It was a little after seven when he arrived, pulling up in the driveway in his old school Land Rover. He loved that car. He had it ever since she could remember. It was the car that first brought her to this land. That was the night Derek Shepherd first allowed her to have a glimpse into his life. That was the night that she had fallen in love with him, trailer and all. She made another mental note, reminding herself to remember that night as one of the best of her life.

Derek got out of his jeep and looked up at his house. He immediately spotted her sitting on the porch swing, looking out at the Seattle skyline. From there, he could tell that she was deep in thought about something, her captivating blue-green eyes, mysterious as they took in what was in front of her. She hadn't noticed – no, rather – hadn't acknowledged his arrival yet.

He slowly walked up to the house and onto the porch, not attaining even a glance from her. She had been distant lately – for the past month or so – and he didn't know why. He sighed, slumping his soldiers and putting his hands in his pockets, as he walked over to the swing.

"Hey," he said, making his presence known.

"Hi," she answered, not shifting her gaze from the landscape towards him. She couldn't yet.

Sighing, he sat down next to her. The silence was uncomfortable to him, the seconds turning into minutes with her barely acknowledging he was there. He missed her – her touch, her scent, the feeling of her heartbeat against his chest. She had been sleeping downstairs for the past week. He didn't understand why. They were fine. No, they were great. And then, gradually, she became distant.

He missed her.

Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, cradling her against his body and squeezing her in a tight hug as he kissed the top of her head. She winced, and immediately he could tell that he'd hurt her somehow, as he quickly softened his hold.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she breathed out, leaning her head against his chest, letting him know that it was okay for him to hold her. Her eyes were still fixed on the landscape. He could tell that she was thinking of a way to tell him something. Why she had been so distant, perhaps? Why she was sleeping downstairs? He was scared. Did she no longer love him?

He certainly didn't expect her to start the conversation as she did.

" Do you remember when I made you the house of candles?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Of course," he smiled, his mind wondering back to that night. "It was one of the best nights of my life."

"Yeah," she sighed. "Me too."

The way she said it made him ache. It was as if she were remembering a better time – a time she wanted to go back to. He didn't understand. He thought they were happy.

"That was the night we planned this future together – the kids, the house, us…our future" he said encouragingly, trying to remind her that they were living their dream, their fairytale.

"Yeah," she chuckled, almost jeeringly. "The future."

Again, his body ached at her tone. What had he done wrong, he wondered.

In the darkening night, he could see her lower lip begin to tremble. He too, began to feel his throat start to constrict.

He turned her face towards him and looked her in the eyes, giving her a weak and hopeful smile.

"We…I mean…we still have a future together, right? We're okay, right?"

She stared up at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she remained quiet, unable to give him the answer he wanted.

"Meredith, I love you," he stated pleadingly, as if he were begging her to stay with him. " I will always love you…no matter how you feel…if you don't love me anymore…I will always love you…forever, until we're old and gray."

At that, Meredith leaned her face into his chest and started sobbing. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, comforting her shaking body. He felt as if though she was going to break in his arms. She seemed so frail as she kept on crying for what seemed like a long time. He didn't know what to think. Was this her way of telling him that she felt the same way? Or, was this her way of telling him goodbye?

He stroked her hair as she seemed to calm down a little. Slowly, she pulled away from his chest and stared up into his blue eyes, tears still streaming down her face. He put his hand on her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"I love you Derek," she said, leaning her face into his hand. "I love you so much."

She began to cry even harder as she said this. He began searching her eyes, searching for anything, any answer to what she was feeling, because he had no idea – he was confused and scared.

" So, we're…we're okay?" He asked, desperately, needing the answer to be yes.

It took her awhile to calm down enough to speak. But when she finally could, she looked up into his eyes and kissed him gently on the lips.

"No," she said defeated. "We're not okay…or…" She trailed off and looked to the sky, as if searching for answers. "I'm not okay."

"Why not?" he asked imploringly. "We can make this work Meredith…we can make this work…we promised each other forever…we'll love each other forever, right? Until we're old and gray? "

" I don't know Derek," she said through red and swollen eyes. " I love you right now…that I know…but I don't know about forever…I don't know if until we're old and gray."

"Why not?"

A sad smile crossed her face as she lifted her hand and touched his cheek.

"Because," she said softly. " I don't know how long forever is."

He didn't understand what she meant by that as he stared at her with wet and confusing eyes.

"I'm sick, Derek. I can't tell you forever because I don't know. I have cancer."


	2. Chapter 2: Hold Me

**Chapter 2**

She had leukemia; she found out that morning.

The moment she told him, he stopped breathing. The world was spinning and all he could see was her face fluttering in and out of his memories. All of his worries – about marriage and divorce – were answered. But the answer, seemed to leave him even more confused.

Leukemia?

Was that why she had become so distant?

She felt sick.

Was that why she had started sleeping on the couch?

She couldn't make it upstairs.

Was that why she would cringe at his touch?

It hurt her to make love.

Leukemia?

His Meredith?

No.

"No!" Derek said forcefully, standing up from the swing. "No! They're wrong…"

But they weren't. They were right. He could see it in her eyes as she looked up at him sadly, extending her arm to him so that he would sit down next to her again. He grabbed onto it for dear life, collapsing back onto the swing as he gasped for air. She rubbed his back gently, comforting him so that he would calm down. He should be doing that to her, he thought. But, he couldn't. He couldn't think. Everything was so blurry. And he couldn't tell if it was from the tears or if it was from the fact that this whole scene just seemed so surreal to him – it felt like a dream. And, for a second, he thought it was a dream – a cruel joke.

" You don't have cancer," he said authoritatively, as if she was his patient and he was her doctor.

"Derek," she whispered, her voice cracking in the end. "Look at me."

And he did. He looked at her. And what he saw, scared him…

She was pale. Very pale…

Her once vibrant eyes were now tired, emphasized by the dark circles that surrounded them…

And she was thin. She had always been small. But this – it was distressing. He felt that if the wind blew too hard she would break…

He took a sharp breath in and ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh God!"

She did have cancer.

His Meredith had cancer.

Deep down, he knew it was true.

Carefully he wrapped his arms around her, treating her as if she were glass, as if, with one wrong move, she would break.

"Is this okay?" he asked, fear in his voice – fear that he was hurting her.

She didn't answer. She just positioned herself deeper within his chest and wrapped his arms tighter around her body. They stayed like this, silent, for a long time – just holding each other.

They held each other through the silence.

And then, they held each other through the tears.

First hers – she couldn't stay strong anymore and she took in a deep and ragged breath that pierced his heart. It was his turn to be strong now, as he planted soft kisses on her neck and whispered comforting words into her ears.

Then his – with each broken breath she took, his heart broke a little more. His comforting words soon became nothing more than choked sounds.

There display of emotions was a seesaw: it went from silent to anguishing.

But their one constant was their hold onto one another – never letting go.

Later, she told him how she found out.

At first, she thought she just had the flu or something. But, none of the antibiotics she was using seemed to work.

That was a month ago.

Then two weeks ago she began to have trouble breathing. She could barely make it through surgery, and had trouble making it from one room to another without gasping for air. This worried her. She thought maybe she had pneumonia.

She waited a week to see if the symptoms would go away by themselves.

But they didn't.

They got worse.

On top of feeling tired, nauseous, and unable to breath, she began to get brain-splitting headaches.

So, she finally decided to get a check up. She was sure that it was pneumonia. But when she went in today and they lifted up her shirt to hear her breathing, they found weird, unexplainable bruises on her back. Worried, they took her blood, and sure enough, they found, decreased platelet levels and red blood cell counts, along with an excess of white blood cells.

It was leukemia.

They scheduled her to meet with an oncologist tomorrow.

"I'm scared Derek," she whispered.

"I know," he said as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. " I know."

He was scared too – horrified. He had only felt that way two other times in his life: when Cristina told him she was holding a bomb in her hands and when she had almost drowned during the ferry accident. And both times, he felt so helpless; unable to know for sure whether she would live or die.

He didn't sleep that night. She fell asleep in his arms on the swing. She was exhausted. He carried her sleeping body upstairs to bed. But, he couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes swollen, holding her hand; unable to let go for fear that she would drift away from him.

He went from denial, to sadness, to hopeful, to angry, and back again. It was a cycle: first, he would convince himself that the doctors got it wrong – that she was just anemic or something; second, he would realize that it was true and become depressed; third, he would convince himself that tomorrow they would tell them that it wasn't that bad; and last, he would get angry – angry that it had to happen to them, to her, his Meredith, the love of his life, the mother of his children, the most loving and caring person he had ever met.

These thoughts circled his mind, never ending, until the sun rose.

That morning, they both lived in an understanding denial that would last, at least, until her appointment at noon. They walked through the doors of Seattle Grace, both doctors that morning. But somehow, they both knew, that she wouldn't enter those doors as a doctor in awhile. She would no longer give him a quick kiss as they parted ways to go check on their individual patients. He would no longer page her to on-call rooms to just hug when he was feeling down. They would no longer share loving glances during surgery. For the time being, that part of their life was over. After today, she would no longer be a doctor, but a patient. She couldn't concentrate during rounds as she began to realize this. She couldn't breath. Interns began to ask her questions. Why were they just standing there? Who was there next patient? Could they scrub in on a surgery today? They stared at her, looking to her for answers. But she couldn't answer them. She couldn't breath.

"I don't know," she chocked out, running to the nearest supply closet, as she gasped for air.

She sat there, for what seemed for a long time, gasping for air. What a waste, she thought. She was wasting what could be her last day as a doctor in a long time, sitting in a supply closet, crying. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't walk from room to room, watching people dying, as she was constantly reminded of her own deathly disease – it hurt to walk, it hurt to breath, it hurt to think.

This is what she was thinking about – the pain – when she heard the door open. Quickly, she took a ragged breath and wiped her away her tears, hoping that she could give the impression that she was not crying to whoever walked in the door. When she looked up to see who it was, she realized she didn't have to pretend. It was he person, Cristina Yang – or Hunt: she would go by a different name at work and in public.

"Hey," Cristina said, looking down at Meredith's broken figure.

"Hi," Meredith hiccupped, as she wiped away her cheeks again, avoiding eye contact.

Cristina quietly closed the door and sat down across from Meredith. There was an unusual silence between the two. Cristina was slightly confused. Meredith usually couldn't stop rambling when something was wrong with her. But today, she was quiet, staring down at the floor and avoiding eye contact. But Cristina couldn't handle that today. She needed her person today, more than ever.

Cristina finally couldn't take it anymore, breaking the silence.

"Let's play a game of whose life sucks the most. I'd win."

This was the game they played when something was wrong with them. They would go on listing all the horrible things that were happening to them, until someone obviously won. But, Meredith didn't seem to be enthused this time.

"You don't want to play with me," Meredith whispered sadly as she wiped away another tear.

" Don't worry. Whatever's going on in your McDreamy world can't top what's going on in mine."

Meredith finally looked up from the floor and made eye contact, questioning Cristina.

"I'm having trouble getting pregnant, with one tube and all," Cristina said flatly, playing with the strings at her scrub pants. " So now Owen wants to do these experimental procedures, like In Vitro and Egg Implantation."

Meredith stared at her for a second, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She quickly averted her gaze as a tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away. " I'm sorry," she said softly, lowering her gaze to the floor once again. "But, I still win," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Did you hear me?" Cristina asked. " He wants to do experimental crap. I'm going to have to be poked and prodded, and put on all kinds of weird hormone crap that going to make me even more bithcy then I already am and probably fat and…"

"I have cancer," Meredith interrupted as she choked back a sob.

Cristina stared at her in shock. She certainly did not expect that. She didn't know what to say as she slid over to sit down next to Meredith. And she did the only thing she knew ho to do, resting her head on Meredith's shoulder.

" You realize this constitutes hugging," Meredith laughed through a quiet sob.

"Shut up," Cristina said. "You're my person."


	3. What If You

**Chapter 3: What If You**

As noon arrived, Derek walked slowly towards the elevator to meet Meredith. The act seemed so regular. He would meet her at the elevator everyday before they went home. But today, walking there, it seemed so foreign. His heart was racing and time seemed to be moving to fast and to slow. He felt like his body was moving, but he wasn't. He waved at the nurses and smiled at his colleagues, but it didn't seem like he was living the life he saw from his eyes.

When he reached the elevator he saw her standing there, leaning against the wall, waiting for him, just as she had always done. When she saw him, they shared a smile, just as they had always done. When he reached her, they leant in for a kiss, just as they had always done. When the elevator arrived, they held hands and walked in, just as they had always done.

But they weren't the same as they had always been.

Their destination had changed and so had they: instead of clicking floor one, they clicked floor nine – oncology; and instead of being Derek and Meredith, happy, they were Derek and Meredith, scared.

They both tried to hide this though, pretending that everything was the same as it had always been. Derek told her about his day; how he had just clipped an aneurism; how he had overhead the nurses talking about someone's secret love affair; how Mark was freaking out over what he should get Lexie for her birthday. Meredith nodded and smiled when it seemed appropriate. But they both knew they were avoiding exactly where it was they were going.

Meredith couldn't take it anymore.

When she heard the bell ring, telling them that they were at floor seven, she started freaking out. She couldn't breath. Taking a step forward, she reached out and clicked the alarm button. She just wanted time to stop – for just a second.

"Meredith?" Derek questioned, as he walked forward and touched her back.

" I just," she breathed out. " I just…I need a moment."

"But Meredith…"

" No Derek!" she screamed, taking a step back and leaning against the wall. "I'm a doctor! I'm a doctor and I just need a second to realize that right now I'm not! Right now I'm the patient! And I just need a second to realize that! I need a second to realize that I'm going to have to switch roles from the role I've had for the past eight years. I just…I just…"

"You need a second," he answered understanding. "Just tell me when you're ready."

She turned around and faced the wall, leaning her hands against the railing, and dropping her head to her chest.

All at once, the world seemed to overwhelm her. She was scared. She wanted to run, but she felt so out of control. Like every step she took, was a step to determine her fate, a step that would either break or hold still…

She didn't know…

And that's what overwhelmed her…

She didn't know…

She couldn't breath…

She felt a hand on her back and then felt two arms wrap around her.

"Shhh," he whispered into her ear. "Just breath."

"I can't," she choked out.

"Yes you can," he whispered, as he cradled her closer to him. "In and out. In and out."

She leaned into him, allowing herself to collapse in his chest as he held her still. She felt his chest move with each breath he took and she tried to match her breaths with his.

"That's it," he said encouragingly, as she began to calm down. " In and out."

In and out, she thought, as she breathed. In and out.

As she leaned against him, she felt so safe. Like whatever the future held for her, she would be okay, because she had him there, holding her steady, wrapping his arms around her, just loving her.

"Thank You," she whispered, as she turned around and looked up into his blue eyes.

Smiling, he reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," she breathed out, her eyes fixed on his. " I…I'm ready."

"You sure?" he asked, still rubbing her cheek. It felt nice, like he was wiping away all her fears.

"Yes," she breathed out.

Slowly, he turned around, stepped forward and released the alarm button. As the elevator began to move again, she reached out and grabbed onto his hand.

Their fingers remained interlaced for the rest of the day. He held her hand as she recited all of her symptoms to the doctor. He held her hand as they drew vile after vile of blood. He held her hand as they performed test after test - a bone marrow aspiration, a lumbar puncture, a chest x-ray, and an ultrasound. He held her hand as they explained her diagnosis.

It was Leukemia. Acute Myeloid Leukemia to be exact. And it had Central Nervous System involvement.

He held her hand tighter when they told her that.

And then, he held it even tighter when they talked to her about their treatment plan.

They wanted to start treating it immediately – chemotherapy once every three days along with intrathecal treatment, where they would inject anticancer drugs directly into her spinal cord, once every three weeks.

He held her hand when they told her they wanted to start treatment tomorrow.

He held her hand when they told her she had a fifty percent survival rate.

He held her hand when the doctors gave them a moment and she started crying in his arms.

He held her hand as they wheeled her to the elevator.

He held her hand as he helped her stand up, supporting her weight as she leaned painfully against him.

He held her hand as he carefully walked her to the car and as they silently drove home.

He held her hand when he carried her inside the house and up the stairs.

He held her hand as they lay down, arms wrapped around one another, and as she told him she didn't want to tell the kids – not yet, not until they needed to, that is, not until it got really bad.

He held her hand as she started crying.

He held her hand when she told him I love you.

He held her hand when he told her I love.

He held her hand as she fell asleep in his arms.

He would hold her hand forever, he promised. Never letting go, forcing her to stay there with him, connected to him, forever, until they grow old and gray, together.


	4. More Than Anything

**Hey you guys, here is my fourth chapter. Thanks for all the comments ********. It's sort of the aftermath of the doctor's appointment and how they are both dealing with all this news. The boy's will be introduced in the next chapter. I just think that Derek and Meredith both need time to cope with this by themselves before they have to deal with taking care of their children on top of taking care of each other during this hard time. I hope you like it and please please please please COMMENT! :) **

**Chapter 4: More Than Anyone - Gavin Degraw**

**You need a friend**

**I'll be around**

**Don't let this end**

**Before I see you again**

**What can I say to convince you**

**To change your mind of me?**

**I'm gonna love you more than anyone**

**I'm gonna hold you closer than before**

**And when I kiss your soul, your body be free**

**I'll be free for you anytime**

**I'm gonna love you more than anyone**

**Look in my eyes, what do you see?**

**Not just the color**

**Look inside of me**

**Tell me all you need and I will try**

**I will try**

**I'm gonna love you more than anyone**

**I'm gonna hold you closer than before**

**And when I kiss your soul, your body'll be free**

**I'll be free for you anytime**

**I'm gonna to love you more than anyone**

**Free for you, whenever you need**

**We'll be free together, baby**

**Free together, baby**

**I'm gonna love you more than anyone**

**I'm gonna hold you closer than before**

**And when I kiss your soul, your body'll be free**

**I'll be free for you anytime**

**I'm gonna love you more than anyone**

**I'm gonna love you more than anyone **

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He lay awake, watching her.

Watching her breath in and out gave him something to focus on. He blocked out everything else from his mind and just focused on that one action – in and out. It was constant. It was steady – steady in a world that, for him, seemed to be moving closer and closer towards chaos.

But would it always be steady?

What would happen if one day it stopped?

At these thoughts, his own breaths became unstable and ragged as he tried to suppress a sob. His eyes traveled from her chest up towards her face…

How had he not seen it?

Her face had grown thinner, and he could see the faint outline of a bruise forming on her collarbone. He reached out and grazed it with his finger, hoping that, somehow, by just touching it, it would go away.

But it didn't.

It seemed to be growing darker with each passing minute – a growing reminder of the disease that was _killing_ her. He didn't want to think _killing_. But that's what it was doing. It was _killing_ her. And he couldn't stop it. It was up to other doctors to do that now. It was up to her.

Hours passed before she began to stir. It was a little after seven at night when slowly, she opened her eyes. And for a second, in the midst between wake and sleep, they seemed relaxed, as if she had no worries in the world. But then her features became uncomfortable, the memories of the past two days flooding her mind; the pain from her procedures earlier that day surging through her body; and the headache, that seemed to be a constant now, pounding in her head.

She turned her head to her side, searching for his eyes. Instantly, they locked, and she saw him gazing lovingly at her.

Her face was pained, he saw, and her breaths were heavy. She was breathing through her discomfort. Yet, despite everything, her eyes, those mesmerizing blue-green eyes, were as beautiful as ever.

He had never seen anything that had matched their beauty.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, reaching out and stroking her cheek.

"Fine," she lied, trying to fake a smile.

She couldn't stand that look of concern he had implanted on his face ever since she had told him she was sick.

Sick? It was such a familiar yet distant word. Her whole life, she had been surrounded by sickness.

As a child, she lived in the hospital, wondering through the hallways of Seattle Grace.

And as an adult, she was a doctor. She dealt with sick people everyday.

And then there was her mother. Her mother had been sick most of her life.

As a child, she was mentally unstable. After her attempted suicide, they had put her in a mental institution for a couple of months. Her foster parents, her aunt, or some random friend of Ellis's– whoever decided they wanted to take care of her at the time – would sometimes take her to go visit her mother. And when she did, she just remembered how drugged up she was. How people would have to feed her, help her walk. And when she got out, she just remembered how she would have to assume all the responsibilities of a mother – cook, clean, make her own lunch. Her mother was either too depressed or too busy to do any of that.

And then as an adult, her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's right before she went to medical school.

She didn't want to think about her mother. It reminded her of the strain it was to have somebody close to you so debilitated.

She would be debilitated soon and she didn't want to think of the effects it would have on Derek or her boys. At times, she remembered, she wished her mother would just die. And when she did die, she felt guilty to say, but she was relieved.

Is that how her family would be? Would they sometimes wish that she would just die? And if she did, would they be relieved?

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Meredith?" Derek asked, concerned.

"Don't," Meredith protested, turning away from him, and wiping away her own tears.

"Meredith," Derek whispered as he stroked her back. " You can't do this."

"Do what?" she asked, even though she knew what he was going to say.

"Pretend your fine."

"I'm not."

"Meredith, I'm going to have to know when you're not fine, when you're feeling sick, when you have a fever. You can't tell me you're fine every time I ask. If you do, and you're not you could…well, something bad could happen."

She turned around and looked at him, her eyes red and puffy. " I could die, right? That's what you were going to say. If I tell you I'm fine and I'm not, I could die, right?"

He looked away from her, no longer able to meet her gaze.

"Say it!" she urged, even though she already knew the answer. She needed to hear it from him.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't. He couldn't stare her in the eye and say it. As she stared at him pleadingly, he cowardly looked away as a feeling of nausea overtook him. She was forcing him to admit the one thing he didn't want to.

"Say it!" she screamed again. "Say it!"

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her again. They were both so broken.

Opening his mouth, he tried to find his voice. It took him awhile, but finally it came out. But when it did, it wasn't his voice. It was someone else's. It was broken and quivery.

"Yes, Meredith. You could die," he admitted. "You could die. So, you have to tell me when you're not fine…so I can take care of you, so I can help you…"

" So you can hold my hair back when I'm puking my guts out!" she interrupted bitterly. " So you can carry me around the damn house when I'm too weak to walk! So you can dump me in an ice bath when my fever gets too high! So you can wake up every morning, dreading getting out of bed, because you know you're going to have to do it all over again!"

"Meredith," Derek pleaded, trying to get her to calm down, to think rationally. He reached out and tried to stroke her cheek, but she slapped it away.

"No, Derek! No! You don't get it! You don't know what it's like having to take care of someone that's sick! It's horrible…it's horrible! And sometimes you just wish that they were…just, No! Just put me in a home or something! I don't want you to do that! I don't want the boys to see that! No! I can't have them see me like that! I saw my mother like that…and No! No! I'm not going to do that to them! I'm not going to make them do that! I'm not going to make you do that! I'm not…"

"Meredith," Derek said forcefully, grabbing both sides of her face. " You're not making us do anything. We're doing it because we love you. I love you, through sickness and health. I love you and I will never leave you! So, you can shut up about us putting you in a home or something! Because, that will never happen! I'm not going to say I'm going to love holding your hair back, or carrying you around, or putting you in a tub full of ice…because I'm not…it's going to scare the shit out of me…But, I'm going to do it. I'm going to hold your hair back. I'm going to clean your face. Hell, I'll even brush your teeth. I'm going to carry you around the house and put you in that tub of ice. I'm going to dress you, feed you, do whatever you need."

"Derek," Meredith whispered in protest, as silent tears streamed down her house.

"No, Meredith! No _Dereking_ me right now because I'm going to do all this and more. I'm going to hold you when it all becomes too much. And then, I'm going to dance it out with you! And, if you become too tired to dance it out, I'm going to dance it out for you. It's going to look ridiculous. But, I'm going to do it, because, you're going to need a good laugh sometimes. I'm going to do everything I can do to make you giggle, to put a smile on your face. I'm going to love you Meredith. I'm going to love you and you can't stop me. And in return, I'm going to ask for one thing."

"What?" Meredith whispered, a smile on her face as tears of fear, happiness, and most of all love strolled down her cheek.

" That you kick this cancer's ass."

"I'm going to kick this cancer's ass," Meredith hiccupped, as a both a giggle and a sob escaped her lips.

"And I'm going to love you."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him as he gently kissed both her cheeks and then her lips. She rested her head against his chest and listed to his heartbeat. He rested his head atop her head, and lightly kissed her hair.

"And I'm going to love you," he repeated.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Oh, yeah. And don't you think this song fits this update perfectly. I wasn't sure what to title it and then I found this song and it just fit ********. **


	5. Breath Me

**_Love You All _1616**

Derek drove them to the hospital at five thirty in the morning. It was too early and neither of them had gotten enough sleep. It was a night filled with fear and reassurance. And, as a result, little sleep. Derek unplugged the alarm clock at 4:58, two minutes before it was actually going to sound. He wanted to spare Meredith from the headache that accompanied the buzzing. But, he soon realized it did not matter. First, she was already awake, her eyes glued to the cieling. And second, she already had a headache, her breaths heavy as she breathed through the pain.

The car ride was quiet. Derek focused on the road, while Meredith rested her head against the window, trying to take in the beauty of Seattle as it whirled passed her. But, she soon became dizzy and had to close her eyes to fight off a wave of nausea. This, of course, merited a worried look from Derek. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Yeah," she breathed out in a whisper as the world slowly began to steady. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a soft smile forming on her lips. She wanted to show him that she was okay. Well, as okay as she could be, considering the circumstances. He responded with a smile and reached out to squeeze her hand. It was cold and sweaty - signs of both fever and nervousness. She squeezed it back, holding on to it tightly for the rest of the way there.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were met by her oncologist, Dr. Smith. He was nice, very well respected in the medical realm. This made Derek comfortable. He also looked kind of like Santa Claus, minus the beard, which was also, in a weird way, comforting. He was a big man with a very round and red nose. Derek half expected him to start roaring with laughter, asking them what they wanted for Christmas. Of course, this is not what happened. When he opened his mouth, his tone of voice was not jolly, but instead very serious. He did not speak of candy and presents. Rather, he spoke to them about cancer, about their future - a future, which seemed, increasingly overwhelming. And that's that he did not even discuss their long terms plans. He discussed their short-term plan. A short-term plan that lasted three to four months long. Four months of chemotherapy, of trying to achieve remission, of probably having to receive induction chemotherapy. Four months of being sick, of vomiting, of barely being coherent. If this was the short term plan, what was the long term one? More chemotherapy? A transplant? Death?

But they didn't have time to think about that. They didn't have time to think about anything. Because, as they spoke, the cancer was already killing her. It was already making its way through her vulnerable body, like a snake releasing venom, and nothing was stopping it. They were like sitting ducks, waiting for the fangs to strike. Nothing was hitting that damn snake against the head, that damn cancer, so that it would die. So, they didn't have time to think. They didn't have time to do anything. Because, before they knew it, Meredith was putting on a hospital gown and being wheeled off to surgery.

They were going to insert a Hickman into her chest, a catheter into the vein above her heart. It would stick out of her like an alien object. It had three outlets, through which they would give her blood, take her blood, and insert medications. So many medications: chemo, nutrition, anti-nausea, anti-virals, antibiotics. So many anti-things. Because, she needed to be anti-everything. The chemo would leave her so prone to everything - nausea, infection, broken bones. So, she needed to be anti-everything in order to stay a little bit human. But, it seemed like such a paradox to her.

She felt so alien the second she woke up from the anesthesia and immediately began her treatment. A plastic tube was inserted into her chest via the catheter. And through it flowed an ugly colored liquid - the chemotherapy. She felt like a car being pumped with gas. But, it wasn't the right kind of gas. It was the kind of gas that ended up breaking your car. Because, it was the wrong gas. It was diesel not premium and it was breaking her. She felt feverish, but cold at the same. She felt nauseous, but tired. She wanted to heave, but did not have the energy. And then she felt even more exhausted as they pumped more anti-everything into her system. She was conscious, but incoherent at the same time. She vaguely remembered Izzie, Alex, and George visiting her. Then Cristina, Lexie, and Mark. She cringed at the thought of them seeing her like this - so alien, so vulnerable, so scared and sick. She wondered who told them. She had told Cristina, but she hadnt gotten around to telling everyone else. It had probably been Derek. She felt bad for him — that he had to have that conversation. She wondered what he said: "_Hey guys, Meredith's in room 908 receiving chemo, I thought it would be nice if you were there for her," "Hey, Meredith has Leukemia," "Hey, Meredith's dying." _These thoughts entered her head sometimes. But then, they were replaced by thoughts of pain, vomiting and sleep.

The day wore on — more pain, more vomiting, more sleep. Chief Webber and Dr. Bailey stopped by but Derek told them "five minutes." He could tell that whenever people were there, she tried to be strong - too strong. She would sit up and try to talk. But, as soon as they were gone, she would pass out or begin to puke. So "five minutes" it was; and then began the "thirty minutes" of puking. Derek frequently had to grab the basin - or barf bowl - by the bed. It was a hideous green color - like barf. He wondered if they made it like that on purpose. So that the barf wouldn't look so bad? It would merely resonate the bowl. He joked about this to Meredith: _Hey it's not that bad, the bowl looks just as bad_. She didn't find it all that amusing while she was puking in said bowl. But, he tried. He tried as hard as he could to put a smile on her face, to make her feel even just a little bit better. Sometimes, his attempts worked, but sometimes they were futile, they were nothing, because nothing could take away her feeling of nausea, her feeling of bone-splintering pain. And when such occasions arose, he would hold her, whisper to her murmurs of hope and love. But, of course, he felt so helpless, so pitiful, so useless when as he told her _I love you_ she puked into her barf bowl. But what else could he do but tell her _I love you_? What else could he do but hold her and be there by her side?

It was extraordinary how, after only twelve hours, life had become about catheters, medications, and constant nausea. By the end of those twelve hours it seemed like such things would become ever-present within their life. The doctors explained to them how to take care of the catheter, gave them what seemed like a million medications, and warned them of possible worrisome complications - infections, fractured bones, non-stop blood loss. They even gave them a special watch that would track her temperature: they should try to maintain a temperature below 101 and if it rose above 102 it could mean she has a serious infection.

She wanted to cry as Derek took off the watch he had given her on their second anniversary. It was beautiful - white gold, with small cut diamonds circling the rim. Engraved on the back said: _Derek and Meredith, together forever in time_. This emblem of their love was replaced by a hideous black thing. It was big and bulky and reminded her of the leukemia that was taking over her life. It was a constant reminder: every so often it made a horrible beeping sound, indicating a rise or drop in her temperature. With leukemia,she discovered when she went home, you could never forget - not even for a second - that you had it. She thought that maybe at home, she could distract herself from the disease, the snake, that was poisoning her. But it was, indeed, impossible. It was the beeping of the hideous watch, the nausea until there was nothing left to vomit; it was the constant interruption of a welcome sleep, the three in the morning reminder to take a pill; it was that thought in the back of her mind that this was only the beginning, that it was only going to get worse, that another trip to the doctor's office, another meeting with the barf bowl was only three, two, one day away.

How had time passed so quickly and yet so slowly ? How had it already been three days when she opened her eyes, for the first time, in a semi-coherent state? Throughout the first day back she had slept. And, throughout the second, the only thing she remembered was vomiting, pain and then numbness after Derek gave her a very large pill.

Slowly, she turned her head. And immediately, her eyes were met by those comforting blue eyes that told her, with one glance, _I love you_.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hi, sleepy head," he smirked in response, trying to make light the fact that she had been asleep for almost two whole days.

" Were you watching me sleep again?" she asked, going along with his light mood.

He shrugged, lifting up his arm to stroke her cheek. "Well, you see, you kind of snore."

" I do not!" Her face lit up as she protested, a giggle erupting from her lips.

"You do too," he chuckled.

"Well maybe," she admitted " But, only a little bit."

"Try a lot a bit," he smirked.

The room was filled with that angelic giggle once again as she reached out and smacked his shoulder. " Well, its your fault for not wearing those damn earplugs I bought you."

"Do you not remember the earplug incident?"

At this, Meredith burst into laughter. " I can't believe you thought you were going deaf for a whole day."

"I can't believe nobody told me I had earplugs in my ears."

"You have to admit it was pretty funny."

"It was," he agreed, joining her in her laughter.

That giggle, it filled the whole room with happiness. It resonated off the walls, filling the room with a little bit of normalcy, with a flashback in time of what their mornings used to be like. And for a moment, they both forgot.

But, they also forgot, that with leukemia you could never forget. This time it wasn't the nausea or the pills, but it was the beeping of the hideous watch. Immediately, they both became quiet, a feeling of fear and dread creeping up their body. Softly, Derek grabbed her wrist and turned it so that he could read the watch. Meredith didn't bother looking down. Instead, she searched his eyes for the answer, and immediately she could tell he wasn't happy.

"Derek?" she asked fearfully.

He realized that he was probably scaring her and looked up to give her a smile and stroke her cheek. "It's fine," he smiled. "It's just not as low as I would like it to be."

"What's it at?" she asked, not knowing if she wanted to know the answer.

"One hundred point three,"

Her eyes began to panic. She knew that if she broke one hundred and two she would have to go to the hospital. They would put her in isolation. And, she didn't know if she could handle that. Not yet. It had all just started. It was too early for that.

Derek saw the fear creep into her eyes and immediately he pulled her closer to him, his hand cupping her face.

"Meredith, its fine. It's down from yesterday."  "Down from yesterday?" she asked, her voice quivering, as confusion spread across her face.

"Yeah," he said sympathetically, realizing that she probably didn't remember any of yesterday. She didn't remember the fear that had succumbed him with each damn beep of that hideous watch.

"It broke one hundred and one," he admitted.

"Wh-hat?" she asked, her eyes darting from his towards the ceiling as she tried to remember. " I-I don't remember."

"I know," he said softly, trying to comfort her as he stroked her cheek. "I had to give you some pretty strong pain medication to keep it down."

At this, she became overwhelmed. She began to realize, that she had, in fact, been asleep for almost two whole days. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Is this what her life would be like for the next four months? Would she be asleep through most of it, barely conscious? And then, she realized she hadn't seen her boys for three days. Where were they? She didn't even know what day it was. Did they have school today? Were they in the house? Had they been okay for the past two days? She had never been away from the twins for that long. And Noah? How was Noah? She worried about him. He was having a hard time lately. What if he was sad? What if he was lonely? Scared?

"Derek, where are the boys? How are they? Are the twins okay? And Noah? What if—"

"Meredith," Derek interrupted, wiping the tears away from her face. "The boys are fine. They're at school."

Meredith took in a deep breath and tried to compose herself. But, she missed them. She missed tucking them and telling them _I love you_. She missed being there for Noah. She didn't know exactly what was going on with him, but it worried her, and she needed to be there for him.

Derek also worried about the boys. They were confused. They had never been away from Meredith for that long. And they didn't understand why they couldn't see her. They didn't understand why Derek had been on the verge of hysterics last night. They didn't understand why Izzie had to come over to take care of them while Derek tried to get Meredith's fever down. They didn't understand why both Izzie and Derek looked like they were on the verge of tears all the time. Derek wanted to tell them, to let them know that their mother was sick. At least, that way, they would understand why nothing was normal. At least, that way, they wouldn't be so confused, asking him when their mommy was coming back.

"Meredith," he said hesitantly. "I think we should tell them."

Meredith's face transformed from one of fear into determination. "No!"

"Meredith," Derek protested, as he stroked her cheek. "They're confused. They don't know what's going on. They're asking questions. I think. I think they deserve to know."

"No!" Meredith cried out as she slapped Derek's hand away from her face.

"Why not?" Derek asked a little to harshly. But, he was tired and frustrated, frustrated of lying to his children. He knew that if one of his parents had cancer when he was younger he would have wanted to know.

" You don't get it!"

"I don't get what?" Derek asked, trying to calm himself down. "Tell me what I don't get. Tell me why I have to keep lying to them."

" Don't do that," Meredith spat.

"Do what?" Derek sighed.

Meredith's lips began to tremble as tears silently spilled down her cheeks. "Make me feel guilty," she choked out. " Don't you think I feel guilty enough! Because of me…because when they find out that I…"

She began to choke on her words. Derek immediately began to feel guilty himself, realizing what he had just made her feel. He had made her feel guilty for having cancer and that was the last thing he ever wanted to make her feel. He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her trembling body, as he whispered comforting words into her ear. But, it was as if she didn't hear him.

"When they find out that I have cancer," she cried. " When they find out that I have cancer their childhoods are going to be ruined. I don't want them to think of their childhood and just associate it with their mom having cancer. That's why I don't want to tell them. That's why…"

"Okay," Derek said comfortingly, trying to calm down her shaking body. "It's okay. We won't tell them now. It's okay. It's—"

"And Noah. It's too soon Derek. Why did this have to happen so soon?"

Derek's body stiffened as he realized what she was talking about. It was really soon. They were barely recovering from what had happened a year and a half ago and now this. Noah was still so angry, so sad, so confused. He didn't understand what had happened and it was hard for them to explain it to him, especially since he accidentally saw it. They couldn't tell him that it wasn't what he thought it was, because it was. It was exactly what he thought it was. One day, his grandma was there — well, at least she was breathing, her eyes were occasionally open, and sometimes she mumbled things. And the next day, she wasn't. The next day, he witnessed Derek storming out of the room, while Meredith stayed there, holding his grandmother's hand as a doctor unplugged the machines that were breathing and feeding her.

" Why did this have to happen so soon?" she cried into his chest.

"I don't know," he said sadly, hugging her — not only for her comfort but for his as well. "I don't know."

"He blames me," she whispered into his chest, her voice cracking at the end. "He thinks I could have stopped it."

"You're not the one that could have stopped it," he said bitterly.

Meredith pulled away from his chest and looked into his eyes, noticing that he was still tearing himself apart about it.

"Derek," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "It's what she wanted."

"It doesn't mean I agree with it," he snapped.

"Derek," Meredith protested.

"No! She should have had the surgery! She could have survived it! She just…she gave up!"

"Derek, she didn't give up…she was just tired. She was just so tired. She had already had three surgeries. She wanted to live what time she had left fully, not with half a brain. She was just tired. She had fought and she was tired. She was just —"

"She made me kill her!" Derek barked. " She made me promise that when the time came that I would not override her decision and force her to have the surgery. She made me promise that I would pull the plug. She made me kill—"

"Derek," Meredith interrupted. " You didn't kill her. The tumor killed her. The tumor kill—"

"But, if it weren't for my decision she would still be here with us. She would still—"

"She would still be here with us, yes. But, it wouldn't be her. She would have half a brain. And anyways, even with the surgery, she would have had only months, a year tops."

"But that's time we didn't have. That's time I didn't have with my mother. That's -"

"Derek," Meredith said, grabbing his face and making him calm down. "It's what she wanted. You have to respect that. You have to respect that she wanted to maintain what little dignity she had left."

He stared at her, and suddenly a fear he didn't know he had swept over him. Maybe this fear was why he had been so sentimental about his mom this morning. Maybe this fear was something he had been trying to hide, to suppress. But now, whether he liked it or not, it was erupting inside him. And now, he could no long pretend it didn't exist. Because, he realized that it did. He realized that it was dwelling inside him, growing, with each passing minute.

"Meredith?" he asked, his voice cracking at the end. "Your going to fight this right? Even if it gets really bad, you're not going to give up, right?"

Meredith's eyes filled with tears as he asked her these questions. These were the questions she had been avoiding. These were the questions she didn't want to deal with. Because, if it got really bad, if it got to a point, where she could try to live, in pain and and with a slim chance of survival, would she? Or, would she just give up? Would she want to live the rest of the time she had left in peace? Would she want people to pull the plug on her the second it got really bad? Or, would she want to try to live, fighting a battle that might not even be worth fighting?

She opened her mouth, trying to form a coherent thought, but nothing came out.

"Meredith?" Derek asked again. He knew he was being selfish, but he had to know. He had to know that he wouldn't be placed in a position where he would have to decide whether to pull the plug or not. "Meredith?"

She opened her mouth once again, trying to speak. But, nothing came out. She couldn't find her voice, her throat feeling as if it had closed in on her.

There was a painful silence between the both of them. Derek stared at her, begging her for an answer. And she stared at him, unable to give one.

Just when the silence became to painful, a beep filled the room. But, this time, it wasn't that of her hideous watch. It was Derek's beeper.

Reluctantly, Derek pulled his eyes away from her and stared down at his beeper.

" I…ughh… I have to go," Derek muttered as he looked at her again. "Izzie's downstairs if you need anything."

"Okay," Meredith whispered, barely audibly.

Derek got out of bed and headed for the door. "I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said, turning around and giving her what was probably the most disjointed smile she had ever seen. " I love you ."

Meredith nodded her head, trying to find her voice again. "Me too," she whispered, a tear finally rolling down her cheek as Derek closed the door. "Me too."

Now, the tears wouldn't stop. They flowed down her cheeks uncontrollably. No matter, how much she tried, she couldn't stop them. Because, suddenly, everything was so real. Before, she knew she could die. But, she didn't want to think about. It was a possibility. But, it wasn't happening now. She was barely at the beginning. Anything could happen. She could beat this thing in a year. She could survive it. But now the _what if_ thoughts started to permeate her mind - like the cancer that was pervading her body. What happens if she doesn't go into remission. What if she does, but then relapses? What if the second round of chemotherapy doesn't work? What if she can't find a bone-marrow donor? What if she has to participate in a clinical trying, where only one other person has survived? With these thoughts, she realized she had to start thinking about death and how far she wanted to go fighting this thing. Would she fight it forever, or just until her chances of survival became really low.

She didn't know. She didn't know. And, because of that, the tears kept rolling down her face.

16


	6. Ohh Child

**1010**

Three hours staring at the ceiling so far, crying. Maybe two. Maybe twenty minutes. She did not know. All she knew was the indescribable feeling in the pit of her stomach: what most people would call butterflies. But, what she had were not butterflies. Butterflies were something you got before a big surgery, a confrontation. Butterflies were synonymous to nervousness. This feeling, permeating her insides, was far worse than that.

Nervousness was definitely a feeling inside her. But, it was mixed with so much more. The mixtures of feelings inside her were so tangled and convoluted that they were evasive. She could not label them. She could not pinpoint them. Was she scared? Tired? Hopeful? Nervous? Nauseous?

They were untouchable.

Everything was untouchable, unfathomable, undoable.

She wanted to grab it, but she couldn't touch it. She wanted to understand it, but she couldn't fathom it. She wanted to get up, to run, to pick up the boys, to perform a hysterectomy, to dance, to jump, to do everything that the cancer was not letting her do. But she couldn't. She just couldn't do it.

She had been bombarded by the facts that morning. She had been bombarded by the fact that she could die. She could die in a month: in two. She could die in a year: in three.

She had seen it before. There was the seven-year-old girl with gold shoes. Her lips were blue and her face pale as she lay on the gurney, her shoes glimmering under the fluorescent glare of the lights in the ER. She had leukemia and she died suddenly from an infection after her first round of chemo. Then there was the eighty-four-year-old man with the army uniform. Every week for three years he was wheeled into the ER. Always a complication – an infection, a bleed, low blood counts, seizures, hallucinations, kidney failure, etc. And every week for three years he would wear his army uniform – the black boots, the khaki pants, the pins, the hat. He wanted to die in it: "Like a soldier," he said. After three years his expected visits into the ER just stopped. She never knew what had happened – had he moved, gone into remission, died? Then, six years later, she saw that uniform once again. He entered the ER, black boots and all, and passed away from old age, completely free of cancer.

Would she be the little girl with gold shoes? Would she be the old man with the army uniform? Or, would she be someone else entirely? Would she be like Carolyn Shepherd and fight until the fight was not worth it? Or would she be like the little boy with Derek's eyes. He fought passed that moment – when life was just not worth it. He fought five brain surgeries; three relapses; two bone-marrow transplants and a clinical trial. He fought when he had no one to fight for – an orphan among millions, abandoned by all. Why? "You just never know," he said, drifting off to sleep before an emergency kidney transplant. "_You just never know what?_" she asked herself. _What's going to happen when you wake up? If someone will love you? If someone will care? If you'll wake up? If you'll live? If you'll die?_

She never found out. He died during surgery.

Meredith threw the covers off of herself, feeling the cold air prickle the skin on her arms. It was cold, but it was liberating at the same time. She needed to be free from the bed. It was suffocating. Without looking, without thinking, only motivated by the thought of escape, she pushed herself up and stood up.

Why she didn't regret this she did not know. Her knees wobbled and she felt she was going to throw up. But something more powerful then the feeling of complete and utter sickness overtook her. An unexplainable drive that acted for her; that moved for her. One step: two steps: three. Where she was going she did not know. What she was doing she did not know. She was just moving; just walking. She was simply, just walking. And it felt amazing. One step: two steps: three: to the window and then back to the bed. And then, again: back and forth, back and forth. Why she didn't walk somewhere else she did not know. Why not out her room? Why not down the stairs? Why not to the kitchen? Why just back and forth? Simply to the window and back – a straight line. It was thoughtless – one step: two steps: three. It was boring – nothing to see, nothing to look at, no one to talk to. But with such simplicity – such thoughtlessness and bore – came such liberation. She was simply, just walking. There was no destination. There was no intent. She was simply, just walking – not thinking, not crying, just walking. Just walking for three hours. Maybe two. Maybe twenty minutes. She did not know. All she knew was one step in front of the other. One step: two steps –

" What are you doing?"

Noah was standing in the doorway. He had been standing there for a good five minutes, watching her: back and forth, back and forth. It was a monotonous motion – boring. He wondered why she hadn't noticed him. She should notice him, he thought. He was interesting. He was noticeable. He shouldn't be invisible. He was her son: she should always notice him. Why wasn't she looking at him? Why was she just walking? Why wasn't she holding him? Why wasn't she asking him how his day was? Why wasn't she asking him about Ryan Madison, who he wanted to punch in the face for laughing during his show-and-tell, but didn't, because it would get him detention and would make her angry, but probably more worried, which he kind of wanted, but didn't, because he liked to protect her from bad feelings.

But, he still wanted her to worry.

"Walking," she said, hoping it sounded rational. She looked guilty, like a little kid caught with their hands in a cookie jar. When she took a step towards him it felt stupid. Walking suddenly felt stupid. It felt embarrassing as she made her way – one step: two steps: three – towards him. But when she reached him, she forgot about feeling stupid and remembered just how much she missed him. When she grabbed him and hugged him, walking felt like the most rational thing in the world. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her head in his hair, taking in his smell. He smelled like chocolate, dirt, pineapple, and lavender.

"Stop it!" he said in a way that sounded like he was choking. He liked to pretend that he didn't like hugs, but he liked them very much because he held on to her just as tightly, nuzzling his head into her chest. He missed her. He missed her smell of lavender. That's why he used her shampoo today. He wanted to smell like her. But she didn't smell like lavender today. She smelled like sweat, puke, and toothpaste. Her skin was hot against his skin. He thought of his science book. He thought of heat and how it travels from hot to cold. He knew that she was hotter than he was. And because he knew that he worried. She had a fever and smelled like puke and Dad was scared and always wanted to cry. He knew that too. He worried.

" I came home early from school because I felt sick." He wanted her to worry too. It wasn't fair that he was the only one worrying. Her face scrunched and her lips tightened. She was worried. It made him feel guilty and happy at the same time. She put her hand on his forehead and this made him feel even guiltier.

" You are a little warm," she mumbled, pressing her hand to his cheeks and under his chin. He did the same to her to show her that he loved her. She was really warm. He worried.

They sat down on the bed. She didn't realize how exhausted she was until she sat down. Her body ached and her head wanted to implode. She was freezing and all she wanted to do was sleep, wrapping herself under the covers of the bed. It used to seem like a prison but now it seemed like a haven. But she didn't. She couldn't. She wanted to, but the thought of it repulsed her, because there, next to her, was her son. And while her body longed for sleep, she longed for her son, to be with him, talking, conscious, not asleep or throwing up.

"What's that?" She asked. He was wearing what looked like a cardboard clock around his neck. But instead of numbers, it had feelings: happy, sad, angry, worried, relaxed, anxious, etc.

" It's what I showed at show-and-tell. I made it yesterday."

"What is it?"

" It's an e-motion clock. It tells people what you're feeling. So, instead of people asking how you are they can just look at the clock. And if you're happy people will know it's okay to talk to you, but if you're angry people will know it's not. Because when I'm angry I don't like it when people talk to me, but sometimes they do because they don't know that I'm angry. But now they will."

Meredith stared at Noah and then at the clock. She didn't know if she should be worried about this.

"Why is it set to angry?"

Noah hid the clock under his shirt. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to her watch.

"It's a watch. Noah, why are you angry?"

"It's uglier than your other one. Where's your pretty one?"

" Daddy got me a new one. Noah, are you going to answer my question?"

Noah grabbed Meredith's wrist and looked at the watch. He expected it to show him the time, but it didn't. Instead it read off a temperature: one hundred point seven. He worried. He wanted to change his clock to worried, but he didn't because it would make her worry, which he wanted to protect her from, even though he knew he had already failed. Sometimes – he didn't know why – he purposefully made her worry, like when he told her he was sick or when he showed her his clock. But now, because he felt ashamed, he wanted to protect her from more worry and show her that he loved her. He put his hand to her forehead and then rested his head against her shoulder as he traced the screen of the watch with his finger. " Why does it show a temperature? Is that you're temperature? It's really –"

"Noah," Meredith interrupted, pulling her wrist away from him. " Why are you angry? Is this about Grandma?"

" I'm always angry about grandma so I don't put that on my watch. Can I try yours on?"

Meredith sighed and leaned her head against his head as she took off her watch and gave it to him. " Are you still angry at me?"

"No," he said, paying more attention to the watch then to their conversation.

"Who are you angry at?"

"Grandma. How does it work?"

" Why are you angry at grandma?"

" She told Dad not to save her. Does it have like a thermal sensor or something?"

" How did you find out about that?"

" I overheard you and Dad talking one night. Will you hook the latch for me? I can never get it."

Meredith put the watch on his tiny wrist. It looked even more ugly from another perspective – a black bulk protruding from the skin.

" Don't be mad at grandma."

Noah looked down at the watch, mesmerized by it. He wanted to know everything about it. How it sensed your temperature. What was inside it – its mechanics, the intricate details twisting and turning under the ugly blackness of it? He could hear his mom talking about grandma, of course. But he didn't want to deal with that right now. It always made him angry or mad. And it always made her sad or hurt, which is something he wanted to protect her from, especially now, because he knew something was wrong. Why did she have this watch? Why had she been in bed for three days? Why was she so hot? Why did she smell like toothpaste and barf? Why did it look like she was crying? Why did it look like Dad was crying? Why was he crying? Yesterday? When he was holding her in his arms? Why was she mumbling? Talking about things that didn't make sense? He saw this. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he wanted to know what was going on. So, he quietly opened the door and watched. He watched all night, until he heard Izzie coming up the stairs to check on him. He saw Dad crying, wrapping his arms around her and whispering in her ear. He saw her shaking. And then he heard her mumbling – things about grilled cheese and gold shoes, lavender and black boots, prom night and blue eyes. That was when Izzie came up the stairs. But, later on, he heard the puking, the flushing of the toilet, and the running of the bath.

And, he worried about her. He worried about her more than he already did. Because he worried about her a lot, especially after he found what was hidden in the basement two months ago. No one knew that he knew. But, he did. And, it scared him. And, he worried.

He heard a beep and looked down at the watch: ninety-eight point six.

"Look," he said smiling; hoping that seeing him healthy would make her happy.

She sighed, giving up on talking about grandmother, and then smiled, ruffling his hair with her hand. "Perfect."

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

He wanted to ask her all the questions he had in his head, but he couldn't. He was nervous and he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he knew something was really wrong? Maybe it was because he didn't want to know? He wanted to live under a banner and pretend everything was okay.

"I'm tired. Can I take a nap here with you?"

"Of course," she smiled.

She got under the covers and laid down, a relief to her tired body. She felt she could be asleep in seconds as she closed her eyes. She felt Noah climb over her and join her under the covers. She felt him grab her hand and interlace his fingers through hers as he rested his head on her shoulder.

He looked up at her. She was beautiful, but she looked so tired. She was pale and her lips were chapped. He worried. He lifted up his hand, the one that wasn't holding on to hers, and pressed it against her cheeks and chin. It was hot. He worried. Then he remembered he still had her watch on. Carefully, in case she was already asleep, he took it off and put it back on her wrist. Seconds later he heard a beep and looked down: one hundred and one. He worried.

"Mom?"

No response.

"Mom?"

"Hmm," she grunted.

"I love you,"

"Hmm Hmm Hmm Hmm," she mumbled. But, he knew that meant "I love you too."

He shifted closer towards her body and rested his head against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around hers as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

10


End file.
